


The More Things Change

by thinkinghardhardlythinking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:14:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkinghardhardlythinking/pseuds/thinkinghardhardlythinking
Summary: Past loves, Dean WInchester and the reader reunite. A lot of things have changed. A lot of things haven't.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The will be more parts added soon.

It was a beautiful day. The weather was sunny and warm but not too hot and it was nice to walk back from town.

Cars drove past you as you ambled down Main Street so you didn’t pay much attention to the sound of the engine, not until you heard the familiar deep voice that followed it.

“Hey good lookin’…..can I give you a ride?”

You turned and saw Dean, impossibly handsome, one hand nonchalantly on the steering wheel of his Chevy Impala, his face serious and brooding and almost…pouting?

“Dean!” you squealed, excitedly, taking in how his face changed immediately into a smiling laugh that crinkled up the skin by his eyes as you ran to the passenger side door of the Impala you had always loved.

“Oh my God! I didn’t know you were coming to town.” You said as you reached across the seat bank into his waiting hug.

“Well, it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if you did, now would it?” He said, squeezing you with affection before letting you go.

“How did you know where I was?” You asked, genuinely curious, it was a half hour walk back to your home.

“I know you….” He said, in a kind yet teasing voice, as he looked at you with a lazy smile and a raised eyebrow, “I know what you do.”

From anybody else in the world that would have sounded creepy but with Dean, it was just his winsome charm.

“Headed home?” he asked. You nodded and he started to drive.

“So…you rolling through on your way to something violent and terrifying? Or on your way back?”

“Neither. I had a couple of days free and I thought I’d stop by, see how you were doing?”

“Oh.” You said surprised, but not disappointed.

“Is that alright…?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good.” He said, definitively and turned the volume up slightly. You could still talk over the radio but it was nice to have music. Like old times. Chicago’s, ‘If you leave me now’ was playing and it was nice and mellow as the breeze blew in through the windows and sunlight made everything feel golden.

“Oo-oo-ooh, no, baby please don’t go….” Dean sang along, his thumbs drumming against the steering wheel. He had such a great singing voice, not that you’d ever tell him that, it’d embarrass him too much. You’d been on enough road trips with the boys to know this was the kind of song Sam would roll his eyes at but that Dean secretly loved. You felt touched that he still felt comfortable enough to relax and sing along with you. Your voice wasn’t a patch on his but you joined in anyway.

“A love like ours is love that’s hard to find….” You both sang, not exactly a harmony but voices happy to be playing together again.

“Yes, Y/N!” Dean said, huge smile on his face, “Sing it with me….”

“How could we let it slip away-ay…”

Inside this car - laughing with Dean - had always been a happy place. Music, road snacks, the beauty of the Impala, watching the world pass by from its windows – it was all good – but the best thing of all had always been that behind his Baby’s wheel, Dean was effortlessly relaxed. You were sure that wasn’t the case when he was driving on a hunt, but when it was just you two, or you three, when Sam came too, and there was no imminent threat, no monsters on the horizon, he just let go. You could talk for hours about anything there and he’d speak openly and freely and without worry. You’d always loved that, you thought as Baby pulled up outside your home.

“You’re coming in, right?” You asked, “I mean…you didn’t come all this way just to give me a ride back from town?”

“Yeah…I mean, if you want me to.”

You rolled your eyes at him. As if, after he’d driven all the way to see you, you were going to say no.

“And you’re staying for a few days?”

“Well…I mean I could. I have the time. I haven’t booked a room anywhere or anything,” he looked at you, his cavalier playfulness diminishing as he spoke, “…but, I will……if you want me to stick around? I mean, if you’re not busy or anything..?”

You nodded and smiled but you didn’t say anything. You could feel unclear meanings and unsaid words moving under what he was actually saying and you didn’t really want to play games, though you did find unsure Dean endearing. He could be so confident and cocksure most of the time, it was actually sweet to see him earnest and needing your reassurance. You reached over and squeezed his hand.

“Come on in, I’ll get you a beer.”

As he pulled a backpack out of the backseat, you looked at him.

“That all you brought?”

“No?!” He said, with a ‘as if’ look on his face, reaching back in the Impala and pulling out a brown paper bag with two bottles of whiskey inside.

“I don’t need a lot.”

“I remember.” You said, as he followed you down the pathway.

You made your way inside and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator. Without, talking about it you made your way to the back porch and sat, not on the porch swing, like you’d used to, but on the wicker chairs. You asked after Sam and he said he was fine.

“He didn’t want to come see me?” You asked, not actually aggrieved, just curious.

“I didn’t ask….but I know he sends his love.”

As the sun started to sink, you chatted easily. He filled you in on all the hunts they’d been on recently and interspersed the stories with random pieces of information; new vinyl he’d bought, movies he’d seen, things he’d noticed that reminded him of you.

When you asked if he was hungry, he’d said yes and had followed you inside and continued talking, as he sat in the kitchen, watching you throw together some easy pasta.

“Mmmm…” He said, eyes closing in rapture as he took his first bite, when they opened he looked at you, eyes wide. “This!” He said motioning to his plate with his fork, somehow making talking with his mouth full endearing, “I missed this.”

You gave a little good natured laugh but your face reflected your scepticism, “I’m not a good cook, Dean.”

“The hell you aren’t.” He said, shovelling more forkfuls into his mouth at break neck speed.

After food, he grabbed a bottle and two glasses, he hadn’t forgotten where they were kept you noticed, and you both returned outside. Wicker chairs, again.

The sun was setting now and the sky was swathes of oranges and pinks slowly bleeding into purple ink.

You sat and he poured for you both, what could only be described as, a generous measure.

“You trying to get me drunk, Winchester?” you asked, jokingly, but he answered seriously.

“No.” And the look he gave you was shot through with sincerity.

A moment passed. He sat back in his chair, and returned to his default swagger “Didn’t know I had to….”

You nodded your head with mock weariness and rolled your eyes, “There it is…..I was waiting for it.”

“Guess some things never change.” He put his glass up towards you.

“Guess not.” You said, lifting yours to gently ‘clink’ against his.

“Always loved this view.” He said, letting out a contended sigh. You saw his relaxation in the stretch of his legs and the easiness of his lean back.

“Dean…?” You said and he turned to look at you. His gaze felt weighted. You hadn’t really let yourself take him in until now and it was heady; the vibrant greenness of his eyes, the cuteness of the freckles, his lips, plump and pink, his hair – what was that style even called? You didn’t know but it always looked great with its soft peak at the front, you remembered it felt like velvet when you ran your hands through it – and just…the face. It had always astounded you that he was so alarmingly good looking. It wasn’t even your favourite thing about him, though it was up there, for sure. His features were so pretty when considered in isolation yet so masculine when you looked at his face as a whole. It was somehow even more arresting than you had remembered, “…please don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?”

“Done with the small talk, huh?”

You didn’t say anything. If you offered him any conversational out right now, you knew he’d take it.

“I missed you. Wanted to see you, that’s all.” He said, in a quiet voice.

“Took you long enough.” You said, voice similarly subdued. The look on his face told you that he’d taken that as a low blow.

“I’ve been wanting to see you for a long time, Y/N. I just didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“What changed?”

“I got tired of fighting it.” He finished his shot and poured himself another. “I knew it might be a bad move. But…..” He trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence.

“If it helps, I missed you too.”

“Yeah?” He asked, as if he was genuinely asking, though he must’ve known, you thought.

You nodded, gravely. You’d missed him more than you were comfortable telling him.

It was quiet for a minute and you wondered if it had been a mistake asking why he’d come. It had been easy before and now it felt like there was a heavy sadness between you.

He was still looking at you. His face, uncharacteristically serious. “You know why…don’t you?” and although the words may have seemed mysterious to anyone else had they been listening, you knew what he meant.

You remembered.

You remembered how close you’d been and how you’d spent practically every day with the boys, with Dean. You remembered drives and motels, the bunker and your home, filled with music and laughter and easy arms around each other and smiles that turned into long, slow kisses. You remembered trading your stories with him over drinks and then across pillows. You remembered his face when he’d seen what that demon had done to you, the look when he saw the burn marks and your sliced flesh. When he registered the pain that had been inflicted upon you. How he’d destroyed the man with the black eyes who’d used you to lure in the famous Dean Winchester. You remembered him begging for Castiel to come and heal you, which he did. You remembered begging Dean not make the angel take your memories from you, as you knew he’d done with others before. You remembered the anguish on his face. And his guilt. You remembered his palpable guilt, no matter how many times you told him it wasn’t his fault.

And you remembered a quiet goodbye, loaded with desperate sadness, as both your hearts broke on a long drive. “I can’t have anything happen to you.” He’d said.

“Yes. I know why.” You said, simply to him, now, across the porch.

“OK, good….” He looked away from you and into the sky. “Because sometimes when I look back, I worry that you didn’t know why I had to…”

More silence.

“Not doing so great at finishing your sentences these days, D?”

His eyes hastily returned to you. You’d used to call him that, before. He smiled, but it was a sad smile.

“Not good at finishing much it seems. Or leaving things finished.”

“I told you then, that that goodbye wasn’t really a goodbye.”

“You always were smarter than me.”

“Fuck, yeah.” You said, with the tone of someone relaying a very obvious fact. You were glad when he laughed. It broke some of the tension, though there was still plenty in the air. “So, you’ve been reminiscing?” You asked, motioning your empty glass at him for him to refill it.

He thought as he poured.

“Yeah. I think about that time a lot. It was…it was good. Hey, do you remember that motel? With the bar? Hawaiian themed?”

“The Tikki Lounge? With Ricky’s Tikki Hut?”

“Yes!” He practically shouted with recognition. “Ricky’s Tikki Hut.” He said, smiling wide and shaking his head.

You weren’t surprised that that was a fond memory for him, it was for you too. It had been right at that delicious high point of you being together. Sam hadn’t been on that trip, it had just been the two of you.

“Just the open road, my Baby and my baby.” He’d said as you rolled your eyes. You’d sat in a booth of bamboo and he’d refused to drink anything but beer or hard liquor, though you’d had Mai Tai’s. They were the Tikki Hut’s speciality. And they were good. He’d taken a sip and refused to admit he liked it, but he so obviously did.

“You know, I’m not going to think less of you if you admit to liking a drink with umbrella’s in it?” You’d said.

“You might not, but I definitely would.”

“So, what, even if you were on a beach with the sun beating down on you, waves crashing by your feet, you still wouldn’t let yourself have a cocktail?”

“Wouldn’t know. Never been on one.”

“What?”

He had told you how he and Sam had talked about it often but it had never happened. How there never seemed to be a let up from the monsters long enough.

“Well, we’ve been on this road trip for five days so far and we won’t get back for five more and the world hasn’t ended yet, so it’s feasible you could take a little time off at some point? Maybe, I’ll take you.”

“Yeah?” He’d said as you’d turned to him from your place, next to him, pulled in tight with his arm around you.

“Mmm Hmm. You can rub sunscreen on my back to earn your keep. Sun on our skin, sand between our toes. Cocktails.”

“Sex on the beach?”

“After the cocktails, why not?”

You’d both laughed so easily then.

“Is this some kind of elaborate cabana boy fantasy?”

“Would you mind if it was?”

“Hell no, I’m hoping it is…..and you’d be wearing a bikini, on this beach?”

“We’d be on a beach. Of course I’d be wearing a bikini.” You’d said, your face registering that that was a stupid question.

He’d leaned in close, his lips just by your ear and whispered, low, “Not for long.”

And you had thought then that this was a future plan and not an idle fantasy, though the passage of time had proved you wrong.

“What about that place…do you remember….?” He said, disturbing your internal flashback, “…the Starlight Motel?”

“Ahhhh.” You said, “First kiss.”

“I was just going to say they had a pool.” He said, teasing you, “But yeah…yeah, that too.”

“Dick.” You called him, affectionately.

That time Sam had been with you but hadn’t wanted to go to the bar. You and Dean had gone. That was still when you were good friends, best friends perhaps, and when the waitress tried to break your easy banter and laughter to repeatedly hit on him, clumsily and with no subtlety, he’d told her you were a couple. You’d put your arm around him and called him ‘honey’ and ‘darlin’ and he’d moved closer to you, just ‘to sell it’.

“She was cute.” You’d said, crossing the road back to the motel.

“She was.” He’d said.

“If you want to go back….”

You remembered the look he’d given you, under the streetlamp, by the car park. The look that said, ‘Are you kidding me right now? Are we going to keep pretending?’

“Really?” He’d said, voice dripping in tired disbelief at you.

“What? She was pretty, you like pretty women, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that you might have wanted to hit that.”

“Yeah. It is.” He’d said, reaching out to grab your wrist and pull you back, just slightly.

“I was just saying, you don’t have to hold back on my account.” You hadn’t known why your voice came out so quiet then.

“That so?” He’d said. His voice wasn’t quiet, but it was low and considered, as he had pulled you towards him and looked in your eyes, trailing his hand up your arm to rest on your neck, fingers in your hair. When his lips had touched yours, his arms had encircled you and suddenly there was no space between you at all. ‘Ohhh, OK.’ you’d thought, ‘This is what we should have been doing all along.’

After the kiss, you’d looked towards the room the three of you were sharing, the door lit by lamplight, Sam sleeping soundly inside.

“C’mere…” He’d said, leading you by the hand to the Impala’s backseat.

“Lot of firsts that night.” He said, next to you on your porch, his voice soft with happy memories.

It wasn’t that it wasn’t nice, this trip down Memory Lane, but it was bittersweet. A lot of time had passed between those days and now.

“So…..” He said, clearly building up to something, “…any eligible suitors –“

“Yeah, OK.” You said, cutting him off and standing up. He looked taken aback by your sudden movement.

“It’s a simple yes or no question.” He said shrugging. You both knew it wasn’t.

“Firstly…..Fuck you. You have no right. Secondly, I’m going to the bathroom and when I come back I don’t want to talk about it.” You moved towards the door, pausing briefly before you entered the house and saying quietly “….and thirdly, no.” You heard his barely audible sigh relief as you walked away.

You got to the bathroom and locked the door. You didn’t even need to use it, you just needed a break. The memories had been, overpowering. Not that you didn’t think about those times often, but it was so much harder with him here. You leaned against the cold tile and looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to collect yourself.

You’d trained yourself to ignore the memories after you’d parted ways although it had taken time. In the early days, everything had reminded you of him, and it had hurt, like splintered shards of broken glass sprinkled throughout your day. Even here, now, you looked around and it was like ghosts of a former life had resurrected. Ghosts that no one could salt and burn.

The bottle of shampoo that he loved the smell of, how he’d inhale deeply when he held you close. You and Dean in the shower, you washing his hair while his hands roamed, distracting you. You and Dean in the bath, you leaning back against his chest, tub full of bubbles (‘Do not ever tell Sam about the bubbles.’ He’d said) while he asked about your day. Him shaving over the sink while you watched,

“There’s something sexy about watching a man shave.” You’d said.

“A man shave or this man shave?” He’d asked.

“It’s sexy when any man does it. It’s heart stopping when you do it.”

He’d turned to you, face still half covered in foam, big smile and brows furrowed in an expression of ‘I don’t know what you’re saying, but I like it’. “Heart stopping?” He’d asked, moving towards you. “Oh no, baby, has your heart stopped? Do I have to give you mouth to mouth?”

You’d squealed as he wrapped his arms around you, unsuccessfully trying to avoid the shaving foam as his mouth chased yours.

“Dean! Get off me!” you’d said not meaning it really, unabashedly giggling as he picked you up and carried you to the bedroom over his shoulder, grabbing a towel on his way to wipe his face. “We can’t do this when you’re half shaved, you idiot.”

“Let’s just see what parts of you get stubble rash.” He’d said, laughing as you half heartedly play fought against him. You surrendered pretty quickly, as you recalled. 

There was a knock at the bathroom door.

“Y/N?” You opened the door to see his face, adorably apologetic. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I had no right to ask you that. If you want me to go, I’ll understand.”

“Shut up.” You said, not unkindly. “There’s more whiskey right?” you asked rhetorically as you both made your way back outside.

You looked at him pointedly when he made his way over to the porch swing, to his old familiar spot, with his old familiar way of sitting, cushion behind him, his body angled so his spine was in the corner, arm up across the back of the swing, waiting for you to sit next to him so he could drape it around you. Whiskey plus emotions flying high plus force of habit had led him there.

“Oh shit!” He said, realising. He was making a move to get up when you grabbed the glasses and the bottle and joined him. He leaned back, unsure but pleased and it was remarkable how easy and familiar it felt, to slide into the crook of his arm. He leaned in and smelt your hair.

“D, what are you doing?” You asked.

“Man, I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t mean to…I just, I’ve dreamt of that smell, of being here, of you…so many times.”

“No…what are you doing?” You said, meaning the whole thing, the trip, the reminiscing.

He looked at you, unguarded and emotional, there was no swagger, no playful quip, his eyes just traced your face. “I don’t know.” He said, simply. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I don’t want to hurt you or dredge up the past. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to even come but, man, when you looked happy to see me today…it was the best I’ve felt in a long time.” He paused to drain his glass and refill it before continuing, “I thought it would get easier and it just never seems to.”

“But nothing’s changed?” you were asking more than telling.

“I mean, no, I guess not.” He huffed in a bitter way, “Loving me is a death sentence.”

You shook your head, despairingly. “Fucking drama queen.” you said which elicited an unexpected but genuine laugh from him.

“Fuck, Y/N….You always could make me laugh even when I didn’t want to. Even when I didn’t think I could.” He took another sip. “And you always called me on my bullshit. Man, Sammy loved that about you.”

It was your turn to knock back the contents of your glass.

“Loving me is a death sentence.” You said, doing a deep and overly dramatic voice to imitate him. You turned to him, brows knitted together, with a ‘hold on a minute’ look across your face, “Also…I never said I loved you.” And you never had, you had been very careful not to, no matter how many times the phrase had rattled around your head or been on the tip of your tongue, no matter how many times you had wanted to.

“I know.” He said, the words loaded. “But that doesn’t mean……” He trailed off again but caught himself, “Right, finish sentences….I guess what I’m saying is that I never said it either so I know that you don’t have to say the words for it to be how you feel….for it to be true anyway. I mean, I haven’t called you ‘my girl’ for a long time, doesn’t mean you aren’t.”

You’d forgotten his ability to say that he loved you without actually saying it.

“That so?” you said.

He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips into a smile that was both arrogant and adorable. Trademark Dean move, you thought.

And just like he used to, he brought his arm up across you, along your neck and into your hair, moving you closer, meeting you halfway and slowly but gently kissing you on the lips. God, you’d missed his lips.

“Well, you’re in my arms and I just kissed you, so….”

It was a strange feeling that was running through you. On the one hand it was warm and easy and when he was like this with you, it felt like there was a tiny pocket of the universe, there inside his arms, where you belonged and where everything was good. On the other, however, no matter how good and right it felt, it was temporary, fleeting. It had been an almost unendurable heartbreak last time and you weren’t sure if you could do it again. You didn’t want to have to.

“You know, some people might say that it would be unfair of you to come here and say that to me when you’re leaving again in a few days.”

He licked his lips and took in a long, slow breath. He looked serious and sad. “Yeah, those people would probably be right.”

Why, you wondered, was your instinct still to make him feel better, to protect and love him even after all this time?

You reached up, across him, to gently stroke his cheek. This time you kissed him, to show him that you weren’t trying to be hurtful or mean. That you knew you’d always be his girl.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his voice quiet and wracked with genuine emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

“For?”

“If me coming here was a bad idea. If it hurts you more. I just…I wanted to keep you safe and I thought, how could that be wrong, y’know, but every day,” He said shaking his head and looking away into the middle distance of the now dark and starry sky, “…every goddamn day, I waited for it to get easier, just a little, just enough to feel like there was a chance that I could someday move on, that someday it wouldn’t feel so…..” You looked at him, swallowing as he fought back tears, “I’ve done a lot of things in my time, y’know? Saved the world, been to hell, stopped the apocalypse and still the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do is walk away still madly in love with you.”

You looked at him, your heart hurt watching how broken he looked, and he met your gaze, honest and open. You gave him a slow, small, half smile.

“You said the word. The one we don’t say.”

He gave a sad little half smile in return. “Well, maybe some things do change after all.”

You watched him take a slow sip of his whiskey.

“I was so sure,” He said, “So sure, that I was doing what was right by you….but recently….every time I save the world, I wonder, what’s the point? What’s the point of any of it, if I don’t get to be with you? If I feel this way and if you still feel the way you used to, it just…..I’m not sure it makes sense to try and stop it anymore. It’s like trying to hold back the goddamn ocean.”

He looked at you again as if trying to read your mind and then forced a smile. Even his forced smiles were beautiful, with their mask of strength over such raw vulnerability.

“But then…” He said, his face sombre again, “when I think about what that son of a bitch did to you, when I think that anything in this world could try and hurt you again……even if every day without you feels like I’m slowly dying, I’d die a thousand deaths before I let that happen again. I don’t know. Maybe you don’t even feel like you used to and I’m just letting the whiskey do the talking. Wouldn’t be the first time, right?” He let out a small self deprecating chuckle, “I don’t know what the right thing is anymore. I used to think I did but now……You tell me. What do you think?”

“What?!” You said, genuinely taken aback.

He looked at you confused.

“Wow…you really have changed. You never asked me that before.”

“What?” He said looking at you as if you were surely mistaken and he was indulging you despite his knowledge you were wrong.

“No, D, you never asked me. You never asked me how I felt or what I wanted or if I wanted us to be apart. You never gave me that option. You just decided and thought you knew best and I knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t hear any objections. And I mean if one person wants out, it’s over so –“

“I didn’t want out. I never wanted ‘out’.” He said, his face passionate with his strength of feeling on the matter, “I just needed you safe.”

“I know. I know that. So you made a decision to do that the best way you knew how…..but you never asked me how I felt or what I thought.”

“I’m asking now.” He said, leaning closer to look at you, really look in your eyes. He looked desperate to hear what you had to say. “Y/N, I’m asking you now.”

“OK.” You said, taking a sip from your glass, “Seeing as how you asked….I know that when you love, you love hard. And I know you think it’s your job to protect the people you love. I see it in how you are with Sam. I see it in how you are with me. In how you try and keep us safe, but it’s unfair of you to make decisions about how to do that when it’s not what we want. The world isn’t safe, D. I know, I know, how much it scared you when that demon took me and….and….” you swallowed hard, shuddering at the memory. He pulled you close, enveloping you in his arms and stroking your arm softly to comfort you, to show you he was there and you were safe now, “…but it scared me too. I hate that that happened to me but what I hated more, more than the nightmares and the pain and the terror, was that that night, the demon hurt me, but every night since it hurts me all over again by being the reason you aren’t with me. You killed it but it won anyway, it destroyed me forever by taking you away and taking away any chance of happiness I had with you. It wasn’t fair. I could get hit by a truck tomorrow, I could get torn apart by vampires and that would be horrible but it’s just as true with you as without you. You might think that walking away was noble and it was keeping me safe but it also took away the thing in the world that meant the most to me. You wonder what the point of saving the world is if there’s no chance of happiness? Without the prospect for love, and a good love by the way, the kind you don’t find often in this world, one that’s strong and real and rare? Well, I wonder, what’s the point of being, maybe, perhaps a little bit safer if your heart is constantly broken and every day is just an endurance test to see if you can just get through it? If you can try and keep going, knowing the person who made your whole life better, the person you are meant to be with, who loves you and wants to be with you too….just won’t let himself be. I want to be safe, I do. But life isn’t safe, everything is a calculated risk, you weigh up your options and you make your choices. I didn’t get to make that choice. You made it for me. And if I had gotten a vote, I’d want you keeping me safe from where you should be, from by my side. You might have thought you were protecting me from monsters, but in doing so you left me to be torn apart by missing you, missing what we had. I’d pick demons over that any time.”

You inhaled deeply. You hadn’t meant to rant like that. You lifted your head to see his face, to see what he was thinking. He was staring at you, eyes wide. He looked taken aback.

He lifted his eyebrows and blinked slowly as if regrouping from the verbal onslaught.

“Well, fuck….” He said.

You laughed, just the tiniest bit, at his response and nudged him, gently. 

“You asked.” You said.

“Clearly shoulda asked sooner.”

“Well….yeah. You should have.”

“If anything happened to you-“

“Something did happen to me, Dean. And you left. You left me alone to deal with it.”

There was nothing he could say to that. So he said nothing.

“But I do….still feel the same way. Obviously I do. When I saw you today? I’d forgotten what it felt like to feel that happy. And I’m glad you’re here now, really I am.” You said, “How long you can stay?”

“I don’t know, I mean I was planning to stay ‘til Monday but now….I don’t even know if I’ll be able leave.”

“What?” You asked, quietly.

“I just, I don’t know what the right thing is anymore, Y/N. Being here with you, this feels more ‘right’ than anything but maybe I’m being selfish, maybe it puts you at risk, or maybe it’s more selfish to just stay away…God…” He sounded confused and frustrated, “…do you remember when things were simpler?”

You laughed a little. “No.” You said.

“Like, when we’d just load up cooler, hit the open road…You, me and Sammy. The radio on and the windows down…”

“Things weren’t simple then. You were still hunting. You were still fighting. The apocalypse was still always just around the corner.”

“Yeah, maybe….maybe it just seemed simpler with you by my side.”

You pulled your feet up onto the porch swing and curled up into him.

“Wait.” He said, taking off the shirt that he was wearing over his t shirt and draping it over your shoulders before pulling you in tight to him, running his hand up and down your arm.

“I’m not even cold.” You said, pulling his shirt tight, inhaling the smell of him from its fibers.

“Mmm hmm. I know. For me, baby? Please.” He said, gently, playing along. It had been a running joke of the both of you, how easily you’d feel a chill.

‘I’m fine.’ You’d say and he’d look at you with exaggerated patience, stroking the goose bumps on your arm. ‘I know, sweetheart, I just worry. Will you take it for me? Just so I feel better.’ He’d say. ‘Fine. But just so you feel better.’ You’d reply, sinking into his shirt or his jacket.

And then, he pushed against the deck with his feet, just slightly, to make the porch swing rock gently back and forth, ever so gently. And suddenly, it was exactly like it used to be.

Even in the height of summer, you’d sit here like this, wrapped in his shirt, in his arms, in his love, as he rocked you slowly back and forth. Just, exactly like this. 

You let yourself take a deep breath in and relax into how good the moment felt. How right, how natural, how good.

“D?”

“Yes, baby?” He said, his deep voice sounding content and full of relaxed affection.

“I want you to stay, at least ‘til Monday. Like you were going to. But if you stay, I don’t want it to be sad or bitter or painful. I just want you to be you and me to be me and just….for us to be together.”

You craned your neck up to look at him. He was looking back at you, smiling. He looked peaceful and calm, love struck and happy. Like he used to before.

“Whatever my girl wants.” He said, leaning down to kiss you gently on the forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

You both sat there, comfortably rocking, ever so slightly, on the porch swing for a while.

“What do you want to do?” You asked.

“Hmmm?”

“We have two days until Monday, what do you want to do, while you’re here?”

“As long as it’s with you, I’m not sure I really care. Though we could stop by that place with the pie.” He nodded his head to himself as if confirming that this was a good idea. “They make really good pie.”

You laughed. “Sure, of course. Anything else?”

“Just be with you.”

He said it so simply, as if all other possibilities in the world paled into insignificance. You squeezed him extra tight, to let him know you liked that plan.

“And now? Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?”

You had meant it innocently enough. It was getting late, you’d been drinking and he’d had a long drive. You felt him shift slightly to look at your face and so you lifted your head to meet his gaze. He was looking at you and his head was tilted slightly, a mischievous playful smile on his face, and he had that glint in his eye, the one that made your stomach flip. He lifted an eyebrow.

“Honey, those are you two very different questions.”

“And? What are the answers?”

“Yes.” He said, confidently holding your gaze as his smile grew wider. “And I ain’t tired.” He finished his statement by leaning in to kiss you.

The kisses so far that night had been tender and sweet. They had been softly asking if it was OK to still be close in that way and reassuring each other that it was.

This one was different. As his lips parted and his tongue gently met yours, this kiss said ‘I want you. I wanted you all this time. And I want you now.’ It was long and deep and full of feelings that had been waiting so long and couldn’t wait any longer.

It had felt so good to feel the warmth of his love. To know it was still there, burning just as brightly. To remember how it felt to have him close and saying all the things you’d wanted to hear for so long. It had felt so good that you had forgotten about this.

The way his lips moved against yours. The way his tongue was gentle but insistent. The way his hands moved over you and his arms pulled you closer. The heat of his desire for you rising beneath the tenderness. Growing, as you kissed your way through the doorway and up the stairs, making itself felt.

You’d been together in your room many times and then you’d spent many nights in here, thinking of him, missing him so much it felt like a physical pain in your chest. And now here you both were again.

He took his own shirt off your shoulders and then did the same with the straps of your dress. His pink, pillowy lips made a trail of gentle kisses across the newly exposed skin. You felt his hands as they ran over you. They moved with reverence as if you were a precious thing, as if he could scarcely believe he got to touch you again. You felt it as he undressed you and you wondered if he felt it when you moved your hands over him, undressing him too. He must do, you thought, because it was how you felt and the feeling seemed so overwhelming, it blocked out everything else.

You could feel the passion simmering in the both of you, but the kisses, the touches – they were meaningful and luxurious. It had not been a given that you’d do this again, be close like this, and clearly you both felt like the ability to do so was a gift to be savoured.

So you did.

Although the kisses got hungrier, it wasn’t just desire that your lips pushed onto one another, into one another. It was joy that you were here like this, again. It was recognition of what you meant to each other, that it hadn’t changed no matter how much time had passed or how far apart you had been. It was tenderness, the way you are with something that you cherish, the thing that means the most to you. And though you might not use the word itself, it was love, most of all.

It was there in the way your hands ran over each other, caressing and stroking and passing meaning in your touches. In how they moved everywhere, needing to feel all of one another, to re-explore each and every beautiful part of each other and revel in their rediscovery. In the adoration that seemed to be in every look and igniting nerve as you moved over and under and around each other. In how neither of you could seem to get enough of each other. In the way you said each other’s names as if the very sound of them was a prayer. In the way you looked in each other’s eyes while you both stroked and kissed and licked and sucked and when he moved inside of you. The look passing back and forth between you that felt almost too raw, too intimate, too full of emotion. That said, you mean more to me than I can ever find the words to say, I broke, I ached for you all this time, I never knew anything could feel so powerful, I’d be terrified if I didn’t know you were right here with me, feeling it too - that this, this force between you was so much more than a word or a feeling, too much to fully comprehend. There was just no way you could, so instead you let your bodies show and feel the things words couldn’t explain.

And afterwards, he pulled your tired, contented body into the curve of his, with his arms around you, spooning you in the warm cocoon of his embrace. He nuzzled in and inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar, comforting fragrance of your shampoo that still lingered in the strands of your hair. You felt so safe and warm, so at peace and happy. He whispered, so very softly, into your ear.

“God, I missed this, so fucking much.” The two gentle kisses by the side of your ear that followed his statement were the last things you felt before you drifted blissfully into a deep, rich cloud of sumptuous sleep.

When you woke the next morning, he wasn’t there next to you. For a moment, you were worried. Had you dreamed him? Or had it been real but then he’d reconsidered and left?

You were trying to figure it out when you were distracted by the sustained mechanical roar that was coming from outside. Was that….was it a lawn mower?

You hurried to the window and looked out at your backyard to see Dean mowing your lawn.

“What the….?” You said, out loud to yourself.

Of course, you thought. You’d forgotten that hunters didn’t sleep much so it made sense that he’d be up and at ‘em early. And you’d also forgotten how much he loved stuff like this. Domestic stuff, normal stuff, stuff there had been far too little of in his life. It made him feel grounded and settled, even if just for a short while. And he’d always loved doing stuff like that for you - in the house, in the yard, on the car - anywhere. It was a way of showing how much he cared by being protective and practical. By doing chores, fixing things for you or keeping you safe – by ‘keeping house’ whenever he could.

You remembered when he’d first come here and seen the locks on your doors.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He’d said, opening the door repeatedly and fiddling with the latch.

“It’s a door. It has a lock?”

“If something wanted in here, this ain’t keeping shit out.”

“If something wanted in here, no lock’s gonna keep them out.”

He’d nodded, conceding that you had a point. “Yeah, but at least we could get you a deadbolt or something. Gotta at least try and make it as safe as possible. I ain’t gonna be lying awake all night on a hunt, worrying about this piece of plywood being your only defence against whatever. What are the locks on your windows like?”

He’d left for the hardware store pretty much straight away and spent the whole afternoon with power tools and screwdrivers and weird mechanical parts, working on the front door, the back door, the windows. It had actually been pretty sexy, watching him work, face screwed up in concentration, tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he turned screws and changed drill bits. It had been a hot day and he’d been sweating as he worked, his T shirt sticking to the frame of his body. You brought him lemonade and beers and watched him, as he worked so hard to ensure you were protected by him even when he wasn’t around. Once he’d looked up and seen your eyes glued to his body and the appraising look of attraction on your face. He’d smiled and winked at you.

“Wanna play handyman later?” He’d asked.

You’d laughed. “Later? You are lookin’ all kinds of good right now Mr Handyman.”

He’d smiled, obviously flattered and loving the flirtatious praise, but you’d seen the earnest look in his eye as he said, “I’ve just got two more windows to do. I’ll feel better when I know that this place is at least slightly secure. Honestly….” He shook his head, “….you may as well have just not even had a door at all……can you pass me that?” He’d motioned at a tool that you didn’t know the name of, which you picked up and passed to him. He’d kissed you, lightly, as you handed it to him.

“You know, you didn’t have to spend the whole day doing this, I could have just got a handyman if it was that important to you.”

He’d looked at you and raised an eyebrow.

“A real handyman.” You said “One that you hire. For money.”

He pulled a face that said ‘Why the fuck would you do that?’

“What? No. I’m gonna do it so I know it’s done right. Besides they’d charge you a stupid amount.”

“And what are your rates? Just so I know.”

“Well….you can keep these comin’…” he’d said, motioning at his beer, “….and the rest….well, I just don’t think you can afford me…so we might have to come to some other arrangement….”

“Is that so?”

“Mmm Hmm. You know what the best thing about playing handyman is?”

You deliberately made a show of looking down his body and up again before mock innocently shaking your head.

“If we break the bed, I can fix it after.” He said, raising his eyebrows playfully as he grinned and pulsed the ‘on’ button of the drill twice to provide two loud buzzes for the emphasis of his punchline.

After that, there had been a time when, whenever you were apart, you’d get a message on your phone, late, after you’d have turned in for the night. You’d already have spoken that evening, might have already said ‘goodnight’ even, but still it’d come, saying

You put the deadbolt on the doors and locked the windows, right?  
He might not have used the word ‘love’ then but that’s what you read in his message anyway, regardless of the words.

He was the same about your car. He hated it, and you’d told him many times that you knew it wasn’t a patch on his but it was just to get from A to B and it was all you could afford. He’d insisted that you let him teach you the basics; how to change a tyre and common things to check if something went wrong with the engine. It wasn’t that you didn’t care, you had no desire to be some stereotype of a ‘helpless woman’ who couldn’t do stuff for herself, but you slightly resented your valuable time with him being spent on this sort of thing when there was so much other fun to be had.

“Plus,” You’d said, as you both stood, looking into the propped up hood, “I’ve got roadside assistance.”

He’d turned to look at you, his hands still resting on the frame of the car, with a look of frustration on his face at your suggestion. “If something happens and you find yourself broken down on the side of a road somewhere, I don’t want you waiting around for some dick with a tow truck when I can just show you. You’ll pick it up real easy, I know you will.”

He’d been so patient teaching you and to be fair, you had learned easily.

“You got it quicker than Sammy did. Knew you would.” He’d said, impressed. And he’d been so proud to teach you and so proud of you for learning so quickly. It had actually ended up being a good day. If playing ‘Handyman’ had been fun, playing ‘Mechanic’ was even more so. You remembered him ‘accidentally on purpose’ ending up with engine grease on the side of his face to play the part well, and then leading you away from your car to the garage where Baby was parked, thankfully away from prying eyes. “This ain’t ever happening on the backseat of that heap of junk.” He’d said, as he slowly backed you into the leather seats of the Impala and said something about a ‘flooded engine’.

And the lawn. He’d always loved mowing it. Whenever you’d told him he didn’t have to, he’d always shrugged and said he didn’t mind, that he liked doing it, that it was no big deal. And of course, just like the handyman and the mechanic, sexy ‘Gardener’ had also made an appearance once or twice.

You opened the window, to lean out a little. He wouldn’t hear you over the noise if you shouted, so you just watched until he finished the upward stretch he’d been working on and turned the mower around. His face broke out in a wide smile when he saw you. He winked up at you. He was so sexy when he did that.

“Mornin’” He hollered. He was wearing jeans and a T shirt and had headphones in. You guessed he was listening to some 80’s cheesy rock, because it looked like it in the way he moved. Not dancing exactly but a definite musically inspired spring in his step. He looked happy. Really, really happy.

You used the time while he was mowing to shower and get ready. You were just finishing up when he came in, bringing you a cup of coffee, exactly like you liked it. He hadn’t forgotten.

“I missed shower fun?” He asked, putting the steaming cup down on your dresser.

“It wasn’t the same without you.” Play acting over the top disappointment although, in fairness, it was true, “You didn’t have to do that.” You said, nodding your head in the direction of window to signify you meant the mowing.

“I know.” He said, shrugging, “I like it and it needed doing so…”

It really hadn’t needed doing, but you let it lie, instead saying “You hungry? I thought you might want something to eat? Maybe at the café?”

His eyes opened wide as he realised the place you meant, the place he’d said he’d wanted to go last night. “Pie!” He said, loudly, as you nodded, laughing.

He leaned over to lay a flurry of excited kisses across the side of your face with exaggerated noises of enthusiasm before leaving to get washed up and in no time you were driving into town.

The café wasn’t anything that special but the first time Dean had tasted their pie he’d raved about it for hours. He ordered slices of the pecan, cherry and blueberry and gave you a ‘you don’t know what you’re missing’ look when you just asked for a single slice of apple.

You talked for a while about how Donna, Jody and the girls were doing. You’d met them all a few times. Jody had given Dean a very knowing look the first time you’d met before putting her arm around you and welcoming you into her home. You were pleased to hear that they were all well. He mentioned the other hunters you’d met too. Garth and Bess. Bobby and Charlie. You were all caught up by the time he’d finished his last bite.

“Hey, what do you want for dinner later? Because we might have to pick up extra groceries on the way back.”

“You don’t have to cook a fancy dinner.”

You laughed slightly. “I said ‘dinner’, I didn’t say anything about it being fancy.” You hadn’t been joking about not being a good cook yesterday.

He sat back against the vinyl of the booth and took a sip of coffee. “Well, I love your cooking.”

“I know. I guess….I’ve just never been that girl. I’m not some kind of Fifties housewife, can’t do that whole Betty Crocker thing.”

“Yeah,” He said as if he was glad you’d said what he was thinking, “It doesn’t seem very ‘you.’”

You looked at him, not sure if you should be offended.

“No…I just meant…..you always seemed really good with diner food and burgers and pizza. Didn’t bitch and moan about it like Sam, anyway. I just never got that ‘I’m gonna make you a pot roast while you go watch the game.’ vibe from you.”

“Well…I’m going to skate past the fact that you just said ‘vibe’ which is something I never thought I’d hear you say…” you said, shaking your head, “…but yeah, it isn’t really. I guess it’s like you and the lawn, y’know? It just feels very ‘normal’. Like the kind of thing ‘normal’ people do. And I know you eat a ton of shit on the road and I don’t know, I guess I wanted you to have something ‘home cooked’, just because…I thought you’d like it and you deserve it. I like the idea of doing something nice for you. Y’know, ‘from my hands to your heart’” You deliberately said the last part with ‘a voice’ on, you didn’t know if you’d heard that on a commercial or something but it sounded hokey and now you were slightly embarrassed.

He smiled at you, obviously touched. “I get it. Thank you.” It was quiet between you for a moment. “You know, I don’t even think I’m gonna be hungry later.” He said, rubbing his stomach with one hand as he pushed his empty plate away with the other.

You huffed. “Yeah, right.”

He furrowed his brows at you, confused.

“D, your appetite is huge and relentless.”

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow in exaggerated pride. “Well, thank you….I try….”

“I meant for food…you idiot…” You said, joking. “Although….”

You both laughed, good naturedly, before he reached across the table and took your hand in his.

“Well, how about if we get hungry later, I rustle us up a couple of sandwiches or something? I have hands too. You got a heart. Two way street.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand. “OK. But I ain’t mowing your lawn in return.”

You’d taken your time in the café, just talking and laughing, and then you’d moseyed around town for a while, picked up some beers and snacks and driven home.

You were putting the beer bottles in the fridge when his phone rang. It had been on the counter top and the caller ID showed it was Sam. You smiled thinking about the big lug and Dean had seen it.

“Get it if you want. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.” He said and you reached for his phone.

“Hello.” You answered.

“Hell-…erm, yeah, is Dean there?”

“Yes. This is he.” You said, as Dean shook his head at you, smiling patiently at the lameness of your messing around.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Hey Sam!” Your voice was dripping in genuine affection. You’d really missed him. When you were at the peak of your broken heartedness you’d stepped away from him too, you hadn’t wanted to make him feel awkward with how much you were missing his brother and there had been no way you could have hidden it. And then time had passed and it had gotten harder to reach out. It hadn’t really been fair.

“Y/N! Oh man, it’s good to hear your voice. How you been? Dean didn’t tell me he was going to see you.”

“Yeah, he didn’t tell me either. It was a surprise.” Dean was watching you as you spoke, “A nice one. And I’m good. How about you?”

“Can’t complain. Well, I mean, I could but…” He laughed his Sam chuckle, “…I won’t.” He paused for a moment, “I take it if he’s there…things are…good?”

“I mean, yeah?” You weren’t sure entirely what he meant but what else were you going to say?

“So…maybe, I’ll get to see you soon?”

“I’d like that. I’ve really missed you, buddy.”

“You too.” He’d said, his voice soft and sincere.

“I’ll give you to Dean now. But let’s speak soon, OK? Bye, honey.”

“Sure thing. Bye.”

You passed the phone to Dean.

“What’s up?” He said, into the phone. You couldn’t hear Sam’s part of the conversation but Dean was stood right next to you, making it impossible not to hear his.

“Yeah, well, I knew what you’d say………I don’t know…….I don’t know……Sam….” There was a warning tone in his voice, then a long pause and then eventually he said, “Did you call for an actual reason or…..?.....Yeah…..Can you ask Bobby?.....OK then….yeah, I don’t know….a day or so….OK, but call me if you need me…..OK.”

You always found it weird how the boys never said goodbye to each other at the end of phone calls but just hung up. You’d often wondered if it was a man thing or a Winchester thing.

“Everything alright?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

The elephant in the room was back again. You were both doing such a great job of not talking about what was going to happen once Monday rolled around. In truth, you couldn’t even let yourself think about it. But you knew it was there, in the back of your mind, the big question, was he just going to leave again?

“What would he have said?” You asked, hoping that it wasn’t going to be a mistake to pull at this thread.

He looked at you like he didn’t follow your meaning.

“Sam. You said ‘I know what you’d have said’ so….”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, like he either didn’t know if he should tell you or like he didn’t know how to package up the words in a way that wouldn’t sour the mood. He took a deep breath before answering.

“Sammy didn’t like how I handled things when I ended…” He stopped to reconsider his words, “…what happened after the demon hurt you. And he kept wanting to talk about it and I told him I didn’t want to. I made it very clear.”

You could imagine how that conversation must’ve gone.

“He said that it was unfair because I’d ‘pushed you away’ and that meant he lost you too and I got that, I did. He knew I missed you and I was hurting but I also made it very clear that I didn’t want to talk about that either. So we just didn’t talk about you. Ever…..except…..except for this one time….we were drinking, it was fine, we were just reminiscing about old times and he mentioned you and….he said he missed you and I said I missed you too and he asked if I was really sure that I had done the right thing and….too much booze, I guess…. I said no, I wasn’t and that sometimes I thought about coming to see you…and he said that he thought I should, but…..” He trailed off leaving a silence that you had to stop yourself from filling. He had been staring at the floor the whole time he’d been talking but now he lifted his eyes to yours, that perfect shade of green, brimming with honesty, “…but that if I was going to come, I shouldn’t do it if it was just gonna hurt you more. That I should only come if I knew what I was going to say. If there was something new to say. That I shouldn’t just come because I wanted to see you because that might hurt you all over again and that wouldn’t be fair. I knew if I told him I was coming here that he’d ask me questions I didn’t have answers to, for him or for you, and that he’d say I was being selfish and if he did that I’d have to think about it and then I’d have to not come here because maybe I shouldn’t and…….I just wanted to.”

You saw the pain in his eyes and it made you ache.

“I just really wanted to see you. I needed,” He swallowed and then took another deep breath, “I needed to see you. And I’m sorry if that was wrong because I know he’s probably right. I don’t know what I’m doing so it’s probably selfish and cruel and stupid. And if I’d let myself think it through, I wouldn’t have come, so I didn’t let myself think. I didn’t tell him, just said I needed a few days, and I left before he could ask any questions. I just….I was just so tired of always stopping myself from running to you when that’s all I wanted to do. All of the time, y’know? So yeah, this time I didn’t, I let myself. Didn’t stop, didn’t think, just grabbed a bag and started driving and before I knew it I was here.”

“Shoot first, ask questions later?”

“Well…..it is the Dean Winchester way.”

“Did you just refer to yourself in the third person?”

He laughed and it was a relief, seeing him look so hurt was painful. “Yeah, seems so. Apparently Dean Winchester is the kind of douche bag who’d do that.” He pulled a ‘Go Figure’ expression before regrouping and calmly asking, “That all you got to say?”

“You already said you didn’t have answers so…..doesn’t seem like there’s much point in asking you questions. You know what I think, I told you last night. It’s up to you what you want to do with that. You have to decide what you want.”

“It’s not about what I want.” His eyes shifted to look down again, and then in a quiet, sad voice he said, “It’s never about what I want.”

You put your arms around his shoulders and pulled yourself into him, flush against his chest. You let him fold you up in his arms. How had you ended up here again? You’d just wanted to enjoy these few days but talking like this made it hard not to fear his departure and what it might mean. You breathed in the smell of him and tried to commit to memory exactly how it felt to be here, with him, next to him, in his arms - in case come Monday it was all you had left.

“Will you come with me somewhere?” He asked, pulling away slightly to look in your eyes.

“We just got back?”

“I know. Will you come with me anyway?”

“Yeah, of course. I’d go with you anywhere.” And it was true.

In a matter of minutes you were back on the road and it was strange to think that it had only been 24 hours or so since you’d been here earlier, singing away and laughing after he’d surprised you in town. Now, it felt like the air was thick and heavy with unspoken things and the very real potential for renewed heartbreak.

“I hate this.” You said.

“What?!” He said, shocked and concerned, not asking for the source of your misery in as much as seeming genuinely worried at your distress.

You put your head in your hands in frustration. “I just….I wanted to spend this weekend just…happy. To get to be near you, around you…to be able to just enjoy it. And now….it’s….I know we can’t pretend to be something we’re not but I just wish we could. I don’t…” You couldn’t find the right words. “I just wanted to enjoy it before it went away again.” You heard your voice and thought how you sounded like a child, a hurt child.

He looked saddened. You knew he was mad at himself because he’d hurt you. You knew that he hadn’t wanted to do that.

For a moment it was quiet between you and all you could hear was the purr of Baby’s engine. You wanted him to make a joke, to say something sexy and stupid and make it all better again and his inability to do so was twisting a knife in your heart that you had been desperately trying to pretend wasn’t there.

“It’s not your fault-“ You started to say but he cut you off.

“What do you mean ‘pretend to be something we’re not’?”

“You know….” His silence indicated that he did not. “…’together’….in…the word…that we don’t say. There’s a reason we don’t say it.” His eyes were fixed on the road but you saw them narrow anyway. You continued, “I just wanted it to be easy. I just wanted to ‘be with you’, like you said. I hate that it has to be this hard.”

“What do you think is the reason we don’t say it?”

“Because it means things….it makes promises that we can’t deliver on. I mean, I know we want to but I know you don’t think we should.”

“That’s not why I don’t say it.”

You didn’t say anything.

“People use that word all the time. I get that it comes with promises and…and…and ‘expectations’.” He said the word like it left a nasty taste in his mouth. “It’s the word that they put on teddy bears and…and…and cards for Valentine’s Day and bullshit like that. That’s not what this is. It’s not what it’s ever been. The reason I never said it is because people say it all the time and it just sounds like bullshit. You’re ‘my girl’ because you just are….it’s just, what you are to me….but like….I’d never call you my ‘girlfriend’. Because that makes it sound like it’s a job and you got hired for it and then we could go on dates and fuck and spend national holidays together because that’s what people do. That’s not…..” He paused and let out a frustrated exhale out of his nose. “That word has meanings and I don’t know what they all are. But I know they aren’t big enough. It can’t hold all the things inside of it. Words never seem to when it comes to you. You are…you’re everything…you and Sam are everything to me….and being ‘together’ or a ‘couple’ or that other word…I don’t use them and I never used them because they are just…they are shorthand for something that I can’t put in a convenient package so it fits into something people can understand…I won’t….I refuse to. Whatever it is that we have…it’s not the same thing other people have, so I can’t use the words they use. But…the thing…the word….if it means that I care, that I see all the parts of who you are as a person and I am just totally blown away by them, that you are better than anything I could have ever even have imagined in every possible way, in a way that fucking makes my brain melt out of my ears and my chest hurt when I try and put it into words, that you are all the good things, all of ‘em, and I don’t even know how that’s possible. That you are more than my best friend, more than a ‘girlfriend’, more than any of it because your ‘you’ and that’s bigger and better and it’s just more…..if it means that I need you to be OK and safe more than I need anything in the whole world…..Very little scares me, Y/N, but I’m scared all the time of something happening to you. I don’t know if I could bear it, it would break me, it would fucking destroy me and I cannot, Y/N, I can’t…..” He trailed off, licking his lips and taking a breath. He looked like he was trying to figure something out in his head as he took a left hand turn before talking again.

“Y/N, you are the fucking most amazing thing in the world, in all the universes, all of ‘em - and even that isn’t enough to explain it. You make me feel good. When I’m with you everything just seems right and natural, like it’s the way it should be, and I love the way we talk and laugh and…..You are so fucking beautiful, I almost can’t stand it. You drive me crazy because I just want to grab you and kiss you and just….” He hit the steering wheel in frustration “…I wanna fucking lose myself in you, just the way you smell, the way you look, the way you feel…I want to fuck you all the time and you make me wanna call it ‘making love’ and I hate that expression, I mean who even says that? But it’s not just ‘fucking’ with you because even when it’s the most fun, when it’s hot and dirty and just the really filthy throw down….even then, I also wanna just hold you forever and I can never get close enough…it’s never enough and it doesn’t matter if we are together or not because I think about you all the time, like all the fucking time. I think there’s more of you in me than there is me at this point and I just want to talk to you and be with you, it’s all I want, all the time, and you’re just….you’re fucking everything….and it’s too much, I can’t even get my own head around it….it makes me mad because I can’t explain it and I need you to know, I want you to know, I want to tell you…that all the things…the things and the feelings that I can’t crowbar into words… they’re always there and they never stopped…not for a minute…they’re just always there…and they are so much more than that one word…so I could say it…we can say it…but it’s not enough…”

You took in a deep breath and just blinked, repeatedly. It felt like the speech he’d just made had a force in it that had winded you physically. Your head was reeling so much that it took you a moment to realise he was parking up.

No longer in motion, you just sat in the silent car, as he turned to you and looked at you. Emotion was all over his face and it was almost too much to take in.

“I need you to know that that’s why I never said it. Why I don’t say it. Because it doesn’t do anything between us justice. But if that is what it means, to you, then I need you to hear me, to really look at me and hear me…because if it means even a part of what I’m trying so badly to say, what I can never manage to find the way to say….then I do….I love you.”

He reached over to you and lifted his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb running tenderly over your cheekbone, a gesture he had done so many times before. You weren’t sure how it felt even gentler and more tender this time but it did.

“I love you.” He repeated, quietly and simply as if it was the truest, most important thing he had ever said, as if he was trying with all his might to express the weight of his feelings through the words, “And I have for the longest time. And I think, I hope, you know that. But I can’t have there being any doubt.”

He was looking at you, waiting expectantly for some kind of acknowledgement, his emerald eyes framed with those long lashes searching, desperately, as they scanned your face.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out.

Then, you said, “I do. Know. And I…you….too.” you stammered. You were so taken aback. You must have looked slightly ridiculous, confusion in your crumpled brow and the repeated empty opening and closing of your mouth.

He let out an unexpected, deep and genuine laugh and shook his head. “Fuck it…Y/N….I’m openin’ up a vein over here….”

You were going to get whiplash from all the emotional turns this day was taking. Though the words wouldn’t come before, you found them now. “I love you too. I feel the same. Everything you just said. I feel exactly the same and I love you. It just feels weird because we’ve never said it before. But if that’s what it means….”

He moved towards you across the seat and kissed you, it was hard and passionate, as if it was backing up all the words he’d just let out. It was a long and deep kiss and when it ended he kept his hand cradling your face and rested his forehead against yours and with his eyes still closed said,

“We haven’t said it….but it’s always been what it was…from the very beginning. From then, through all the time we were apart, still now. That’s why I wanted to bring you here.”

You looked around, out through the Impala’s windows and realised where you were. Where he’d brought you. ‘Oh,’ you thought, ‘here?’


	3. Chapter 3

He reached into the backseat and pulled two beers out of the green cooler that perennially lived there.

“You comin’?” He asked, getting out of the car.

You followed him out. He got a blanket out of the trunk and then you both started to walk. 

You still weren’t really sure why he’d brought you here but you knew there had to be a reason. He always had a reason for everything he did, even if the reason was ‘a good time’, ‘the best chicken wings in the state’ or ‘pie’. There was still always a reason.

You’d been here together many times before. It wasn’t the most beautiful patch of nature you’d seen together. On your drives you’d sometimes been to mountains and woods and lakes, even National Parks, that were more breathtaking. Hell, there had even been rest stops where you’d gotten greasy food from vans or diners and eaten them on benches looking out across some incredible views, that might have this place beat, but it was still gorgeous in its simplicity.

It was just grass with some trees and a little brook, on the edge of town. A clearing before the woods got really dense. Not many people came here. In fact, in all the times you’d been here, you’d never seen anyone else.

You’d been passing nearby on a drive when you’d found it. It had been your favourite type of drive with him, one that was aimless and involved singing along to the radio and sprawling, meandering conversations about nothing and everything. He’d been hungry and so you’d picked up some hoagies and driven for a while to find somewhere to park up and eat outside because it was such a gorgeous day. And also because of Baby’s interior and the potential for stray sriracha. You hadn’t known it was here before but it had looked nice enough for a quick stop, you’d thought. You hadn’t expected it to be so peaceful or so beautiful, but it was. You’d ended up staying the whole afternoon, snacking and laughing and kissing on a blanket on the grass and it had felt like finding it was the happiest of accidents.

And then you’d come again. A few times. Sometimes you’d bring picnics. Sometimes you’d come at night and look at the stars. He’d spent so much time on the road that you felt like when the thick velvet night sky, littered with pinpricks of starlight, pulled itself over the earth, he felt safe under it. That it felt more comforting to him than any actual place, more of a constant, more like home – you knew he looked at the stars like that with Sam sometimes and you’d felt lucky that he’d also wanted to do that with you.

The bunker was his. Your place was yours. Motels and the road were transient. But here? You’d found it together and you’d made it a place for you both, equally. You hadn’t been here the whole time you had been apart. Even though it was easily the nearest place to your home where you could feel so gloriously in nature. In your mind, it was so inextricably linked to him and to the two of you that it had felt best to stay away, less painful at any rate.

You still didn’t really get why he’d brought you here now though. Not with the urgency with which he had insisted. Maybe he’d just wanted some time in the sunshine or a change of scene from your place, you thought, as he spread the blanket out and you both sat. He opened the beer bottles and you took one and watched him as he looked out across the expanse of grass and the big tree that you both loved. It was set apart from the other trees which backed up slowly into the woods, and it was old and tall and huge, leaning its furthest branches over the brook below. When the sun set behind it, it looked magical.

“I’ve always loved it here.” He said, taking a sip from his bottle and then a deep breath which he then let out as a contented sigh. “Do you ever come here? Just to sit….think….?”

“No.” You said, as if the idea of being here without him was ridiculous, which to you, it was.

“You know, when that demon took you and I didn’t know where you were, I came here.”

You hadn’t known that.

“I was losing my mind. I didn’t know where you were or what had happened. Sam was back at the bunker talking to hunters and trying to see if Jody could find anything out. I had Cas scouring the planet. But I….. I couldn’t think straight. The time I needed to be the most focussed and think clearly the most and I just couldn’t…” You squeezed his hand to remind him that you were here now and safe, but he still looked grief stricken as he remembered. “I thought, this would be the place that would calm me down, I always felt calm here, y’know?…And I sat here and I….I was so scared. Scared that you were hurt…bad…or worse. The thought of you in danger…in pain…it killed me. I just…….” He trailed off before turning to you, “…and I thought, it didn’t matter how, I was going to find you and save you and that if I could just do that, I’d do whatever it took to make sure you were never, ever, in that situation again….ever….and then when I found out that that son of a bitch had only taken you to get to me……” He swallowed, and looked up, trying to keep the tears of emotion that were starting to well up, from breaking free.

You didn’t know what to say. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand as you held it, hoping it could say…..something….that you were here, that you knew how bad he felt, that you had never, not for one second blamed him.

“And it’s not just that.” He said, ominously. “We were here once and we’d just had a good stretch of time together….you’d been at the bunker for a few weeks and then we were on the road with Sam for a while and then we were at your place for a few days and I remember thinking how awesome it was because all that time, we didn’t get bored of each other, we didn’t get pissy with each other, we just…it was just fun, just really easy and fun. And we were sat here, just talking and watching the sun go down and I was looking over there, at that tree and I thought, ‘man, wouldn’t it be great if it could just always be like this?’ and I wondered what that might be like…and I didn’t even mean to think it, but I found myself wondering what it would be like if we could get Sam….Cas…maybe Jody, Bobby, Donna, Garth…some others….some of your friends….only the really important ones, just family, like I understand it…and if I could make you some promises under that tree.”

Your eyes must have registered surprise because you had not been expecting that. Did he mean what you thought he meant?

“It’s something I’d never thought about before. Never anything I wanted. Didn’t really ever seem like something in the stars for me. But I could just see it, y’know? You’d look beautiful in a white dress, simple, not a big fluffy thing. Sabbath cover band. Maybe a few sliders or tacos. I could see us, laughing, dancing. I could imagine how your face’d look. I could really see it, in my mind, just clear as anything. And I could see Sammy’s face, just beaming man, so happy for us. None of that ever appealed to me before…but in the moment, I got it, why people do it…And I was thinking about the bit where you make the promises…”

“You mean the vows?”

“Yeah, exactly….and I thought…I want to give her the world, I want to give her everything….but I have nothing to offer her. She’s the best person who ever existed and I have nothing I can give her. Not safety, not security, not normality, not peace, no guarantee that I’ll even be around for long…How can I ask her to share my life with me when I’m pretty sure that it ain’t gonna be a long one and it’s gonna end bad…? I sure as shit wasn’t gonna lie to you, make you promises I knew I couldn’t keep. I thought…she deserves all of it….big house, a family, to live long without any worries…white picket fence…a good guy who’s home for dinner every night and never makes her worry…doesn’t bring demons to her door. The whole nine….I can’t offer you those things…I just can’t…and if anyone deserves the good life, if anyone deserves a happy ending…baby, it’s you.” He reached out and gently stroked your face, eyes soft and full of heartfelt affection. “So even though, I want to be with you…and I do…want to be with you…so much, all the time…I just figure that it’s best not to. And I thought knowing that would make it easier…but it doesn’t.”

He looked away and took another sip from his bottle. You were both quiet for a time. You had expected to be laughing and flirting this weekend. You hadn’t really been prepared for the things that he had said, certainly not about making promises under trees. Finally you managed to piece together some thoughts, enough at least to say

“I never knew you thought about that. I never knew that was how you felt. And I love that you did, that you do but….all those things….what if I don’t want them?”

“You do. Or you should.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“You might think that you don’t, you might even mean it now…but someday….what if you hate me for not being able to give them to you, resent me for it…and even if you don’t, I will. I hate not being able to give them to you now. Of course, you want those things, everybody wants them.”

“Do you?”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter what I want.”

“So you keep saying. But it matters to me.”

“I know…I know it does.”

“Can you stop…just for a minute…just stop trying to save and protect and self sacrifice and carry the huge weight of the world on your shoulders…just for one minute? Can you stop that and just tell me what you want?”

He looked at you. He looked so raw, like a million emotions were raging inside him. He looked lost, like a little boy almost. Eyes wet with tears, jaw set, losing his struggle to hold them back. You just wanted to hold him forever, to make him feel better, but you knew you had to let him talk now. You needed him to be honest.

“You.” He said, the tiniest of wry and stoic smiles fighting against the sadness on his face. “Always you…but I want you safe and I want you to have all the happiness, all the good things you deserve.”

“So do it. Keep me safe and make me happy. You say you want to offer me all those things but all I want is you-“

“I know you think that but-“

“No. You said a lot of things today, D. And I heard you. But it’s my turn now.” 

He looked at you and blinked. He nodded silently to let you carry on.

“All the happiness and all the good things…all that is just…it’s you for me. For better or worse, it just is….Like, you know how there’s some stuff that just makes sense, y’know? Like, you don’t have to think about it, you just feel it? Like, when you see a beautiful sunset…you don’t have to question why it’s beautiful or why it feels good watching it…it just is and some part of you, not your brain…maybe your soul, I don’t know…just feels it…feels the connection to beauty, to nature, to the fact there are these infinitely amazing things that just exist…it’s like standing in warm sunshine or looking up at the stars or the sound of the ocean…you just feel like ‘yes, this is good and there’s a ‘rightness’ to it’ ….like everything is exactly how it should be and you are exactly where you should be…like this is how life should be, at its best, and it feels like the kind of ‘good’ that there aren’t words for…like, you feel it deep in your bones? The kind of good that’s like the goddamn sun. That’s what being with you is like. That’s how I feel when we are together.”

He looked like no one had ever said anything like that to him. Like he didn’t quite believe anyone could feel that way about him. It hurt you, viscerally, to see that. You wiped the tear that was on his cheek away and carried on.

“I get that you want to keep me safe. But you can’t. Not really, whether we are together or apart. Even if you can keep me safe from demons or vampires there are accidents and illnesses and just…..time. Death comes to us all, to everyone. That’s what love does, it gives you something you’re terrified of losing but if you sit out the game you’ve already lost That’s why loving anyone is a shit show…because even if everything goes your way, no monsters, no shoot outs - at some point one of you will lose the other, it’s just a fact of life. So isn’t it all the more important to make your life count? To enjoy whatever time you do have together and make it mean something? You told me once that heaven is memories…just a collection of memories…so don’t we owe it to ourselves to make some really good ones? So that when death takes one of us, which it inevitably will - even if it’s when we are old and grey and nothing that goes bump in the night has gotten us - at least then we’ll know that before it did we were happy, really happy and we let ourselves make all the very best memories? Ones that we’ll want to relive in heaven? And don’t you think I want you to be safe too? I’m scared all the time of what could happen to you.”

He looked at you like the idea had never occurred to him.

“You worry about what could happen to me if demons or whatever knew I was yours….Dean Winchester’s girl….but you are ‘Dean Winchester’, you’re the main event, you’re their prize. And I have to live knowing that every day. I am worried about you every single day. Do you think I haven’t thought about what it would be like if you weren’t a hunter? If it wasn’t on you to save the fucking world all the time? If you were just a normal guy with a boring, safe 9 to 5? I’ve thought about it, D, and as much as I want you safe I don’t want that because….you know what? It wouldn’t be you. You wouldn’t be you. And much as I hate it, one day, you’d still die. And it would still hurt. I’m scared all the time of losing you…that doesn’t change because you put time and space between us. It’s the cost of loving someone. And it’s too late now because I do love you. There’s no unringing that bell. It just is.”

You ran your hand over his cheek, feeling the slight scruff there and tracing over the freckles. “It just is.” You shrugged, to convey that it was irrefutable and unchangeable.

He swallowed and looked at you through quiet, silent tears. “I know. I know and I feel the same but maybe it shouldn’t be. Maybe….maybe if I’d have stayed away….maybe you could find someone else. Someone who could give you all the things that I can’t…”

“I don’t want anyone else….Listen to me…. I know you. And I get you. And I love you. And I like you. I just, I really like who you are. The man that you are. Even when you are being a total jackass. And…I want all the good things for you. I want to protect you too. Maybe I can’t do that from monsters…but I want to protect you from feeling bad, when I can, and protect you from yourself and all the ways you don’t see how great you are and all the ways you hurt yourself because you don’t think you deserve to be happy and you don’t think joy or peace can exist in a hunter’s life. I see you…beyond just this sexy, handsome idiot…” 

You both laughed, just a little, at how fitting this description was. 

“I see all of you…and I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing…not one. I get that you want to give me all the things you said – safety, peace, normality. But I feel more safe and peaceful with I’m with you than I ever imagined possible. And normal? What you said, in the car earlier, you were right. What we have isn’t like what other people have…I don’t want to be ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and do stuff because it’s what everyone else does. I just want you. And us. Together. Fuck ‘normal’! We only want normal because we never let ourselves have any of it and so then mowing a lawn or making dinner becomes something it really isn’t. We can choose….that’s your thing right? Free will? We can make our own ‘normal’. Fuck, D, you tear up the rule book every goddamn day so let’s write our own for us, together….and if we want it to be mowing lawns and making spaghetti, then that’s great, we can have that – we can let ourselves have that - and if it’s listening to Zeppelin and pizza in bed and a bunker and motel rooms and you teaching me that exorcism in Latin instead of reading me poetry at sunset or whatever it is that so called ‘normal’ people do then that’s fine too. We can decide. If safe and normal is you not being who you are and us not being together? I don’t want it. And all those things….peace, security, home…you deserve them too. I know you don’t think you do, I know you don’t think you can have them…but….I think you feel them sometimes…when you are with me…”

He looked you at as if to say ‘you know I do, how could you even doubt it’ and with the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he put his beer bottle down and wiped his eyes, before clearing his throat and slightly shaking his head, trying to dispel some of the emotion that had built up over the past little while.

“D? Dean….You’ve been doing that thing where you think you know best and you make these big decisions for me and I just…I really need you to stop doing that. Stop second guessing what I need or want and listen to me. I need you to stop putting yourself last and I need you to stop thinking you know what’s best for me. The stuff you said in the car, before….you said a lot of wonderful things about me…can you tell me now though, what do you love about me?”

He let out a little laugh. “Fuck…we’ve gone from never saying that word to saying it all-“

“I don’t care. Answer the question.” You were going somewhere with this. 

“I can’t because there are too many things.”

“Try.” You moved your hand to gently move his face so it was looking at you, so he was looking in your eyes, “Please.”

He moved closer to you and pushed your hair back, behind your ear. He looked at you and smiled, pouty and sweet and earnest, “OK….you’re beautiful and kind and smart and funny and sexy and you get me and you always smell good and you make me laugh and I love how much you love Sam and how much he loves you and whenever I’m with you nothing else seems to matter…like you said…it’s like standing in the goddamn sunshine…and I could go on and on and still not scratch the surface.” He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he looked at you, defiantly, honestly, like all his cards were on the table and he had nothing left to hide. 

You smiled. It touched your heart to hear him say those things. You could feel how much he meant them. 

“You said smart right?…D, you can’t think all those things about me and not respect my thoughts, not listen to them. You can’t keep making these decisions for the both of us, on your own. I’m asking you to listen to me, to hear me and to trust my judgement when it comes to me and what I want and need. I do deserve good things and I deserve to be happy but also….so do you. And you can offer me everything because you can offer me you and you….you’re all I want. I don’t need anything more….and I don’t want it….and as far as promises under trees go….The one thing I can promise you without any shadow of a doubt, is that one day there will be something that you can’t protect me from, and that’s OK, that’s life – but if you stop trying to keep me so safe that I can’t live the life that I want – and if you stop trying to give me things I don’t really need… it might not be ‘normal’ but whatever it is, whatever we make it…I think it can be really good….I think we can be really happy. If it is what you want too…and if you let us. And the only promise I want you to make to me, is that we can try…that we can try and figure it all out together. And please don’t say, it doesn’t matter what you want becau-“

“Yes.”

“What?” You said, slightly taken aback.

“It is. What I want.” He swallowed and licked his lips, “I’m not gonna pretend that I’m not scared. I’m never gonna apologise for keeping you as safe as I can and trying to make you happy, trying to give you everything…but you’re right. I do respect you and what you think. And I’ve heard everything you said. I heard you. If that’s how you feel, then we should. And my way hasn’t worked…that’s why I couldn’t stay away in the end. And it is….what I want…You. You are what I want. So yes, let’s try.”

“Really?” You said, as relief and confusion and joy all started flooding your system at once. Tears started flowing, but they weren’t sad ones.

“Yeah. Really. I want to try.” He said, smiling so wide.

You laughed through the tears as he pulled you closer and then you were forehead to forehead again. His eyes were all crinkled up by the sides and then he was laughing too. And then he kissed you, just again and again.

“God…Y/N….I love you so much.” And you could feel how much he meant it. In the way he touched your face, in the quiet, low voice that carried in its tone how taken aback by the strength of his own feelings he was, in the look on his face that showed not only how happy he was but also how much he couldn’t believe how happy he was.

“I love you too.” You said, sure that you looked crazy as you laughed and smiled and cried at the same time. “Are we just gonna keep saying that the whole time now because-“

You weren’t even sure how you were going to have finished that sentence because that was when he kissed you. And this kiss was sweet and long and deep and it happened despite the fact that neither of you could stop smiling and it came with his arms so tight around you that it left no doubt that it was where you belonged.

And it went on for a long time. When he pulled back from it, he didn’t go far. He stayed just inches away from your face, staring into your eyes. It was like he was letting himself look at you, really look at you, with the knowledge that you were really his, that he could let himself let you be his, for the first time. Though, in truth, you already had been for the longest time.

The sun was starting to set and without meaning to, you shivered.

“Here…” He said, taking off his red shirt.

“I’m not even that cold-“ you started.

“Y/N? Baby? We’ve just talked about everything. We’ve said we love each other. We’ve been apart and now we’re back together…”

Your heart swelled hearing those last few words.

“….can you just…when you’re cold…so obviously cold….can you just let me keep you warm? Can you just let me give you my goddamn shirt?!” He said, smiling at you as he shook his head in frustration.

You laughed despite yourself. “Just because you said that word, the ‘L’ word…doesn’t mean you get to be bossy, all of a sudden.” You leaned forward and let him drape his shirt around you, as you pushed your arms through the sleeves, “But yeah, OK. I can do that.”

You smiled at him and he smiled back before standing up and giving you his hand to help you up.

“Let’s get you home.” He said.

The car journey back was different to the one there. It felt lighter and easier. He put the radio on and you both sang along and when you got home he made good on his promise to make you both some sandwiches. While he assembled them, taking great pride in his creations and adding little flourishes (‘Did you just do that thing that people do when they are making cocktails? With the mustard? Like Tom Cruise in ‘Cocktail’?’ ‘It’s called ‘flaring’…and yes, yes, I did.’) you put on music. You’d kept an old cassette player, just so you could play the mixtapes he’d made you, though you’d never told him that was why.

You sat and ate and talked and laughed.

“Hey….” He said at one point. “You got anywhere you need to be in the next few days?”

“No.” You said, shrugging. “Why?”

“You wanna go on a trip with me? I thought, if you wanted we could fill up the cooler, go for a drive…maybe you could come stay at the bunker for a few days…catch up with Sam…then we could go on somewhere… just me and you. Just…be together. What d’ya think?”

“Yeah…OK. Or….” He looked at you, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, as you continued. “Yes…to the drive, to the bunker, to Sam…and then after…didn’t I promise you once that I’d take you to a beach? Sun, sand, cocktails…”

“…and a bikini…I remember…”

“So?”

“Baby…” He said, smiling with those full pink lips, green eyes filled with contentment. “I’ll go anywhere with you.” He was leaning over to kiss you, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

“What?” You asked, concerned.

“This song….when I made you this tape, we were still just friends and I thought I was just putting some songs on a tape for my buddy….and then I thought, ‘Oh man, that Zeppelin song…’Thank You’..…I have to put that song on…’ it’s not even one of my favourite’s but I just really wanted to put it on, I just remember really wanting you to hear it and when I was listening to it…making your tape for you…I…”

He went quiet and pointed to the tape deck, letting you hear the lyrics as the played out across the room….

‘If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you, Mountains crumble to the sea, There will still be you and me’

He lifted his eyebrows at you, to imply some sort of significance. You felt your smile spreading out across your face.

“…when I heard those words…” he said, biting his lower lip for a moment and lowering his gaze as he remembered, “…I remember thinking…yeah…Y/N…she deserves that kind of thing…that kind of love…and I remember thinking the guy who gets her…that’s one lucky son of a bitch….and I thought…he better be good to her…I’ll have to make sure he is…make sure he treats her right…’cause if he doesn’t I’m gonna have to kick his ass…and I was jealous…of this guy who got to be with you…I was so fuckin’ jealous…and I thought, huh, that’s weird, and then I thought…oh, that guy….it should be me…I think that was the first time I realised…just how much I wanted it to be me….”

He looked up through his gorgeous thick lashes, eyes laden with happiness, and then he stood up, moving away from his chair and offering you his hand.

“What?? No, D….we aren’t going to slow dance in my kitchen….” You laughed, as much of a sucker for romance as you might be, this was a step too far, even for you.

“I won’t tell anyone.” He said, calling you over with a movement of his head and motioning for you to hurry up. “C’mon….I wanna dance with my girl.”

How could you say no to that? You stood up and made your way over to him, letting him put his arms around you and pull you close. You put your arms around his waist and he kissed you on your forehead and as much as it was cheesy as hell…it felt good. Really, really good.

“Hey…you’re really good at this.” You said. “I bet you broke all the hearts at the Homecoming Dance.”

“Never had one.” He said. As soon as he said it, you remembered that you knew this. You remembered him telling you a story about a dance he’d wanted to go to once…but he couldn’t.

“Shit. D…I knew that…I just forgot…I’m sorry….”

“S’alright.” He said, pulling back from you slightly, the left side of his mouth rising into a crooked smile. “I’m having my Homecoming Dance right now….and it’s perfect…it’s…..it’s….” He trailed off searching for a word that would do it justice.

“Indescribably wonderful.” You said, kissing him softly. “Ineffable.”

He looked at you with a mischievous grin. “Oh no, baby…it ain’t ineffable….trust me….I’m gonna ‘eff’ you. I’m gonna ‘eff’ you good….and soon, too.”

You sort of hated but also loved that he made you laugh with that. And it was hard not to melt a little at just how proud of his joke he looked.

“That’s what I love about you….” You said shaking your head as if you didn’t know what you were going to do with him, “So romantic.” Your words laced with sarcasm.

He pouted and smiled with his eyes, the way he did when he thought he was being extra adorable, which, in fairness, he sort of was.

“OK…how about this…I’m gonna ‘eff’ you…I’m gonna ‘eff’ you hard and good….but I’m gonna love you, with all of my heart, every second that I do.”

You rolled your eyes at him but you laughed sincerely as you leaned in to kiss him.

“Whatever my man wants.” You said.


End file.
